


Last of the Dragons

by Tosser101



Category: Mount & Blade (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 22:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30079161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tosser101/pseuds/Tosser101
Summary: Work in progress for OC's adventures through Calradia





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
She raised a bloody hand to her brow to wipe back the hair that was plastered with sweat to her head. Out of the corner of her eye the glint of steel caught her attention and she ducked just in time to avoid the sword that had been aiming for her neck. Shifting her stance she lunged upwards and thrust her blade into the soldiers throat. She watched as the light faded from his eyes. 

In the brief moments of calm before the next inevitable wave of enemies, she took stock of her surroundings. Accompanied by her personal guard, Ira stood amidst the archers division of her mothers army. Atop a long rocky outcrop, her men shot death from above, guarded by the centre of Empress Rhagaea’s infantry, composed of the elite Legionnaire troops. Still, some enemies made it through the clusterfuck below in an attempt to silence the Imperial bows. The curved sabres of the Aserai infantry could slice through the archers padded armour with ease, meaning even the few that were breaking through did serious damage.

“Fucking mercenaries.” thought Ira. “Cowards don't even show up. So much for their word”. 

Her mother had hired a band of Battanian mercenaries to aid the archers, as their long falxes would make short work of the lightly armoured Aserai, and their Fian bowmen had no equal in the Empire when it came to archery. Distracted by her own grousing over the absent mercenaries, she was startled back to the battlefield by a hard tap on the shoulder. A white faced officer was next to her, staring ahead in fear. 

An Aserai light cavalry group had burst through the trees to Ira’s left flank and now galloped hard for the archers. Ira stood, transfixed, knowing that the infantry would never make it in time. The horses would shred through her men with ease, and such a blow could lose her mother the battle, and Ira her life. As she prepared to give what could be her last orders, a rumbling war cry sounded. 

Spinning to see the cause, Ira’s heart leapt. Dozens of Battanian Wildlings were swarming top her side, drawing back their short throwing spears. The first volley cut down nearly half the riders in one fell swoop, and the survivors stood no chance against the Wildlings huge shields and long spears. within seconds, the tide of battle had turned, and turned brutally. A messenger ran up to Ira, and began stammering out an apology. 

Remembering her earlier anger, Ira said “What. happened. You were supposed to be here already. This is unacceptable.” 

Looking around nervously, the messenger explained what had transpired. “Actually, we weren't even going to come. Some Aserai approached us and offered nearly double what you paid us to stay away. Our leader agreed.” 

Confused, Ira gestured to the field. “But then why are you here? They won't pay you now, and I have half a mind to tell the Empress not to pay you either.” 

Wincing, the messenger continued. “When the boss announced the plan, quite a few of us weren't too happy. One of them stood up and challenged the decision. Said if we did this we would lose our honour, that we had given our word to Rhagaea. After arguing for a while, he just called the boss a coward, and challenged him to a duel.”

Ira didn’t speak, but felt a begrudging respect for the soldier. To stand up to your commander was no easy task, and clearly he at least cared about honouring the contract made with her mother. Frowning, she gestured once more to the battle that was slowing drawing to a close. 

"Judging by what just happened, it's safe to say this man won?’. 

The messenger nodded sharply, bowed, and began to walk away. 

“Hold a moment,” called Ira. “This man. What's his name?’ 

The messenger bowed once more, and said “his name’s Lugh, but most of the men call him Longspear.” He jogged off, disappearing into the thick of the mercenaries. 

“Longspear,” Ira mused. “He sounds like someone I'd like to meet.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we meet our protagonist

Chapter 2  
Empress Rhagaea glared down at Lord Pharon. Head of the Leonipardes clan, he was a staunch ally and a powerful vassal. That being said, he was also a frightful cow, constantly boasting of his accomplishments. Ira knew her mother privately thought the lord was an idiot. She held in a giggle as she watched her mother rein in her temper. Pharon, however, was busy telling anyone who would listen that his cavalry charge had basically single-handedly saved the Empire. 

With a small cough, Rhagaea brought the court to order. It never failed to amaze Ira how her mother could control all these powerful lords with such apparent ease. She knew in her heart she could never manage it, and the thought troubled her. She was the daughter and heir of the dead Emperor Arenicos, and on her mothers death would assume control of the Southern Empire. It would then fall to her to somehow subjugate the other two Empire factions, ending the civil war and reuniting her father’s great empire. 

Sighing, she turned once more to the proceedings in front of her. After the battle with the Aserai’s Sultan Unqid, Empress Rhagaea would have to award any acts of valour or punish those who ran. However, Ira knew that the main reason so many lords had gathered her was to see who would win the grandest prize of them all; ownership of the newly conquered city of Danustica. Despite its volatile position on the border with not only the Aserai and the Khuzait kingdoms, it was a highly prosperous trade node, and since its capture the various clans in the Empire had begun vying for Rhagaea’s favor. 

The entire court went silent as Rhagaea spoke. “Now, as to the matter of Danustica.”

She surveyed the room, and sighed. “Having heard your pleas, and taken into account the roles you all served, I have decided to award the city to Oros of the Mestricaros.” 

At her words, a furious clamour arose, Oros looking on smugly. Rhagaea knew she would have to spend the foreseeable future soothing ruffled feathers. Shaking her head, she raised her voice again above the noise. 

“Bring in the prisoner.” 

Confusion overtook anger as the nobles looked on to see what prisoner she meant. Following the peace treaty with the Aserai, all nobles had been released. The crowd took a step back as six guards brought forth a behemoth of a man, bound in manacles. He stood a head taller than anybody in the room, and his large frame gave him an imposing presence. Built like a bear, he had long pitch-black hair pulled back in a warrior's knot, and a rough beard down to his chest. Every inch of him screamed fighter, and he looked the servant of Death herself. Deep blue tribal tattoos encircled his torso, and a vicious scar snaked along his ribs. 

As Ira looked at him, an uneasy knot formed in her stomach. Despite being bound, he did not look as though he was in any danger, and appeared to be sizing up the guards around him. Rhagaea called everyone to attention once more. 

“State your name for the council.” The prisoner had to almost bend double so the translator could reach his ear. As he replied, the translator spoke to the court. 

“He says his name is Lugh, and he has no family name.” Ira startled to attention. This was the warrior the messenger had spoken of? 

Before she could speak, Rhagaea asked “Where is Edvard, the head of your warband?” 

Another muttered answer. The translator looked nervously at Rhagaea. “He says he killed him. He says the man died as he lived. A coward.” 

Shouting arose from the court, claiming that this lumbering brute was a traitor and a murderer, and so Ira stepped forward. 

“Wait! I think I can shed some light on this.” 

So she explained what had happened, and what the messenger had told her. Turning back to the prisoner, Rhagaea asked him if it were true. The man laughed, and the translator hurried to reply. 

“He says almost all of it is true, apart from the fact that he didn't win the duel.” Confused, Ira asked him directly how it was that they were on the battlefield if he had lost. He shook his head, and the translator spoke. 

“You misunderstand. He never accepted the duel. He was a coward, and so he ordered his personal guards to kill me.” Slowly, Rhagaea asked how many guards attacked him. He looked at the men holding his bindings, and grinned. 

“He says six of them obeyed and attacked him. 

So six of them died.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short one, but I just had to do a tournament

Chapter 3  
Ira glanced around the arena in boredom. It was the second day of the festivities her mother had announced to celebrate their victory. Today was the first day of the tournament, and many of the nobles had signed up to compete. Ira, however, declined.

She knew none of the nobles could best her, and the commoners who joined would be too scared to strike the future empress. As such, tournaments were rather lacklustre to her. 

The first match began. Two teams of four, coloured in red and yellow, took to the field. At the front of the yellow team was Julianos, the scion of the Mestricaros clan. Ira knew her mother was considering him as a potential suitor for Ira, but she couldn’t stand the man. His swagger and oily charm grated on her nerves, and though he was skilled in combat, he would boast incessantly of his accomplishments. 

Ira stirred, however, when she saw who led the red team. The ex-mercenary Lugh strode onto the field, clad in trousers and boots with no armour. Although the weapons were blunted, they could still pack a punch. Hanging from his belt was a Sturgian war axe, which on his frame looked almost like a child's toy. As the horns blew to signal the start of the match, Ira recalled her mothers orders for the mercenary.   
As punishment for arriving late, he should have gotten the death sentence, but in light of Ira’s testimony it was reduced to imprisonment. Clearly, he had been offered a further reduction as a reward for competing today. 

Without preamble, he closed the distance between the teams. Shield raised, his opponent looked for an opening and was greeted with Lugh’s boot planted right on his shield. With grunt, Lugh sent the man flying backwards into Julianos. 

With a heavy swing, he took out the infantryman to his left. Ducking under a swing, Lugh swept his attackers legs from beneath him, following up with a rabbit punch that knocked the man unconscious. Standing again, he surveyed the field. Looking on in shock, the crowd rose from their seats and began roaring their support for this monster who had knocked out three men in the space of a few heartbeats. With a shrill scream, Julianos ran at Lugh. Almost contemptuously, Lugh dodged his wild slash and with the flat of his blade knocked Julianos’ sword from his hand. With lightning speed, Lugh grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. 

Scrabbling at the hand that held him, the crowd watched in awe as Julianos slowly turned purple and passed out. Giving him a shake, Lugh dropped the noble unceremoniously to the ground. 

Without waiting for the Game Master to announce his victory, he simply walked back to the tunnel he had come out from. Silence rang through the stands. As if on cue, a wave of noise rolled over Ira as the public screamed for more. Ira waved for a servant. 

“Go to the Game Master and inform him that I will participate in this tournament.” As the servant scurried away, Ira turned thoughtfully to the fighter’s entrance tunnel. She tapped her chin, then smiled. Maybe this would be a fun tournament after all.


End file.
